Daughter of Eve
by siriuswriter
Summary: Human nature dictates that a Utopian society will not stay so for long... so as one society collapses, what will happen to a child as she is thrust is a pool and comes out in another world? What will she have to learn? And how fast must learn it?
1. the fall

She had Come through at the age of ten. In spite of this, she didn't remember much about the land she had come from, just a brief flash of a memory of her mother, a tall, slender woman who sang with the wind and twirled her daughter around through the forests; both of their feet bare. The only thing she remembered of her father was his deep bass voice, joining her mother's in song as they harvested crops and fed animals and cared for their small farm on the outskirts of the large city – Aroon.

She knew the place she had come from was called Borea, but that was more of an indication of intelligence rather than memory. The world of Borea was an infinitely peaceful place – there was no war, no famine – in fact, Miriam (for that was her name) wondered why such a place could exist at all. She had knowledge that other worlds were out there – everyone on Borea did. Because, if you knew the right route, and traveled far enough, you would come to a great forest : different than the ones that grew in the midst of Borea. For in this wood, there were thousands upon thousands of puddles, all exactly the same size. If you jumped into one of these pools, you were brought to a different world than the one you lived in.

It wasn't as if Miriam had meant to jump in one of the pools. That was the difficult part that she couldn't quite remember. She thought she recalled being chased, arrows flying through the air (which in itself was most confusing, as Miriam didn't even know what an arrow was at the time.) Her father fell close to the farm. Her mother, not pausing to look back, had gripped Miriam by the arm painfully and dragged her through the well-known paths to the forest of puddles. Their plan was to jump through any puddle, any world that might let them escape from this new danger. It was doubly terrifying. The people of Borea did not know danger. They knew not who attacked them. All they knew, for they had no weapons with which to fight back, was to run.

Her mother looked around hastily, frantically, until she seemed to find an acceptable puddle. She pushed Miriam toward it, and Miriam felt herself hit the water, holding her mother's hand. But then it was too late : she lost grip with her mother, or maybe she was just falling too fast. She fell through the water, strangely finding herself able to breathe through it, until…

She was suddenly in the crook of a tree, not high off the ground. The tree was very old, not as old as the ones in Borea, she could tell right away, but old enough to be called ancient in this place. Down her palm, a bright red liquid was flowing – was this blood? She had seen blood before; numerous childhood accidents had brought her encounters with it, but this was different. This was hurting, and it was not done by some household thing that Miriam had mishandled. This was done by someone else. Briefly, Miriam thought of the mysterious flying objects which were feathered at one end and pointed at the other, a stick holding the two sides together. They had looked like some kind of demented bird.

Miriam stared at her hand still longer. She was feeling weak now – perhaps she should find a way to bind this wound. But she was high up from the ground, and jumping from this height would only lead to further injury. So, Miriam thought, she was stuck up there, stuck in the crook of the tree, until she died.

While dwelling on the matter with all the drama of a ten-year-old, Miriam felt hands reaching around her waist, and she abruptly looked down, then had to clamp her uninjured hand over her mouth in order not to scream.

The beast now holding her cradled in its arms was… but there was no name for it. It was held up by the body of a horse, four spindly dark brown legs meeting with a sturdy back and swishing tail. One of the legs twitched, and a fly retreated from its resting place.

But the torso of the thing was entirely human – a male human, Miriam could tell. His hair was long and dark, and his ears stuck out horizontally from amidst the wild mane.

Within the space of ten minutes, Miriam had left her own world, possibly with leaving both her parents dead behind her. She had seen things that invoked injury – things she had never seen before. And now… now she was being held by an enormous man-horse.

It was simply too much for her young brain to process. Miriam went limp in the creature's arms.

oooooo

She awoke in a soft bed. It was too short for her; her feet came off the edges, and she curled her knees in so they would fit on the bed too.

"A Daughter of Eve… what is she doing here?"

"I have no answers to your questions, Nikabrik, I only brought her here because I knew you would have accommodations that I am not able to provide."

"That's very convenient, Glenstorm. Just because you live in the open and I live in a hollowed tree which _I_ took the time to make comfortable…"

"Now, now, Nikabrik," said a smoother voice, "I believe that took the three of us to do. And guess who did most of the digging, eh?"

"Badger, it's no use, once he's angry, he's angry," a cynical voice was heard. "We know she is a human. All right, that's true. But we do not know if she came from the same Where as the Four, or the same When. I think it would be most provident for us to wait until she awakens and ask her questions."

The very deep voice spoke again, and Miriam attached in to Glenstorm. "Well, Whenever or Wherever she's from, she's young. You can tell that by looking."

"Oh that's quaint. I'm short, Glenstorm, does that make me a child?" Nikabrik spoke.

Glenstorm snorted, and Miriam heard the sound of a great hoof scraping the ground. "You eejit. Of course you're not a child, so don't try me. There's nothing innocent left in you, Nikabrik, but there was nothing but it in the girl. Wherever she comes from, she is not used to war."

"Then she won't like it here very much," snorted the cynical voice.

"Trumpkin," the smooth voice spoke.

"Yeah, sorry, all right? I just don't fancy introducing an innocent to a world of nothing but…" he sighed, "what we've got to deal with every bleeding day."

"Speaking of which," the smooth voice spoke again, "I better check on that hand of hers. It'll leave a nasty scar, if nothing else."

Miriam looked down toward her hand. The lines of her palm were rusty with encrusted blood, and she looked in wonder as more of the red liquid oozed out of the cut in the center of her hand.

There was the sound of beads swishing past each other, and in a moment, at her side was a rather oversized badger, who was holding his paws out to shake Miriam's shoulders gently.

Miriam took a quick breath in and backed away to the edge of the bed.

"Child, it's all right. You're safe here. Will you let me see your hand? We'll be able to mend it."

The fact that there was an animal speaking to her was less troubling to Miriam than the fact that he wore a makeshift belt around his middle, and something long and sharp was shining silver against his dark pelt. She pointed to it, wordlessly.

"It's just a knife."

"No, it's not," Miriam said, startled to hear her voice out loud. Knives were what you used when you cut down the waving harvest – no, that was a scythe. Was a knife what Mother used to put her clothes together, with the aid of thread? No… that was a needle. Miriam realized that she had never, in her life, encountered this "knife" object that the Badger wore so carelessly around himself.

He looked down at it as she continued to stare. Wincing, he saw that he hadn't washed it off properly from killing that deer that they were all enjoying for supper, and would enjoy for days to come. Not a Deer, of course. He always made sure of those types of things before… well.

"I said, it's all right. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then why is that… knife… so close?"

"I keep it close so I may protect myself."

"That's silly. There's nothing to protect yourself against. At least there isn't…wasn't…?" Again, Miriam looked at her hand. "That," she pointed to the knife, "did this."

"Not this particular one, but yes, something like it most likely hurt you."

"But we don't have things like that on Borea."

"I'm afraid, child, that you are no longer in Borea, and here, we must use things like this every day."

Miriam drew into herself and shivered, not noticing her palm grazing her light blue dress on its way up to her opposite elbow, smearing blood onto it.

"Do you understand that I won't hurt you?" said the Badger patiently.

"You would have before now, if you were going to, I think."

"Now will you let me have a look at that?"

Miriam held out her hand, and leaned her head over it with the Badger.

"Well," he said, delicately touching the wound with his claws, "you're going to need stitches. Two, maybe three."

"What?"

"I'm going to sew you up, with thread."

Miriam laughed. "Like a piece of clothing? Why don't you just Heal it?"

"I'm afraid I'm the one that doesn't understand, now. Heal it? We heal through different methods – plasters, crutches, medicines."

Miriam scrunched her nose at the strange words. "Everybody knows how," she said matter-of-factly.

"Do you?"

"Of course! That's nursery-school stuff, that is." And so Miriam raised her uninjured palm and pressed it to the other. She glanced at Badger, pleased to see his eyes grow wide as the Healing began. From between the space of her palms, a light began to grow, brighter and brighter, until Badger couldn't even look at it anymore. As he focused his eyes on Miriam's, her face lit up with a brilliant light, so white that it seemed to be tinged with brightest blue. Then she took her palms apart, and set the cut one in front of Badger.

There was no wound. There was no scar. All that was left of the gash was the bits of blood and grime still ground into her hand.

Badger took the hand in his own paws, examining it carefully.

"How… did you do that?"

Miriam thought for a moment, then said, "I dunno. It's just something I do. You wouldn't ask me why I breathe, I do it when I need to. I eat when I'm hungry, rest when I'm tired. And I Heal when… when the occasion presents itself." She was proud of using these grown-up words, words that she had heard from the adults teaching all young children about Healing. _Be wary of when you begin to use Healing, _they would lecture. _For once you do, you must Heal everyone you come across who needs it. Ify ou don't Heal someone because of who they are, or where they come from; for any reason at all, your body will have an adverse reaction. Depending on the need you ignore, you yourself may even die from holding back Healing._

Miriam concentrated hard on the memory, and then realized something - this Healing was the first time she had done it. Now - she must Heal everyone that was reasonably in her power to do so. And this place, the Badger had said, was in war. Would she have to Heal the enemy?

Suddenly, Miriam felt very afraid. She had just jump-started the one thing she had ever been warned about, and a deep sense of foreboding filled her. Enemy or ally, she would have to Heal... or die.


	2. in the beginning

And Miriam Dreamed.

It was a wonderful dream. She was sitting in the forest of puddles, all by herself. She had been there many times before, but only once without the accompaniment of her mother. You knew you were in the most ancient of ancient forests when you began to feel tired, even if it was the height of the day and just a moment before you were full of energy.

Miriam remembered her limbs, dragging slower and slower. She loved to fight the awesome power that no doubt settled over it, and she had been getting better; lasting longer against the weary feeling that settled over her body. In the dream, she went very, very far. Finally, her body began to rebel against her, and she sat, propped up against one of the trees. An immediate sense of restoration was returned to her. The trees – they must give power to this place… she thought distortedly… for being against one of them was like being against a great, pulsing living thing, one that was warm, and, if it could move, would certainly move its great branches around her, its leaves to protect her from the heat of the sun.

Yes, trees were most definitely wonderful things.

As soon as she felt she was able, Miriam leant forward and looked into the puddle closest to her. She dipped her thumb in, and wondered briefly what was happening in the world her stubbing digit was invading. Was there a giant thumb sticking out of the sky, the nail gummy and red from jam not yet cleaned off? Were the inhabitants running around like mad, convinced the world was ending? She never kept her thumb in for long after thinking these things – it was not in Miriam's nature to begin suffering in anything, even so far off as another world.

So Miriam looked into the depths of the puddle, which reflected her round face, and the trees surrounding her. Suddenly, then, the vision changed. Four children – two boys, and two girls, stood, in order of height (and, Miriam supposed, age) in front of four beautifully ornate thrones. A deep voice spoke from somewhere out of the picture.

"Queen Lucy, the Valiant," the voice said, and the smallest girl curtsied, a delicate silver crown placed among her brown curls.

"King Edmund, the Just," it continued, as a dark-haired boy with enormous eyes bowed solemnly, a gold circlet sitting atop his head.

"Queen Susan, the Gentle," the voice said, as young woman knelt to receive her silver crown. It was larger than Queen Lucy's, which only made sense, as, of course, her head was bigger.

"… and High King Peter, the Magnificent," the voice finished as a older young man with golden hair wore his crown with great pride – a gold crown, much like King Edmund's.

"People of Narnia, I give you your sovereigns!" The crowd was huge and made up of all sorts of creatures, and they began to cry in loud voices, "Long live King Peter! Long live Queen Susan! Long live King Edmund! Long live Queen Lucy!" The cheers drowned out every other sound, except for one.

Miriam didn't know why she was the only one who heard the voice, who saw the lion parting the crowds and making his way toward her. She looked down at herself, and was much surprised. She was dressed in rich robes of dark blue and silver, and she was… well, not quite ten years old anymore. She stood, tall and strong, looking at the four at the front of the room.

The lion neared ever closer, but somehow, Miriam was not afraid.

"Queen Miriam, the Fearless," someone said, and Miriam suddenly realized that the lion itself had spoken. She stepped back, but she was against a wall, and there was nothing to step back into.

The lion bowed his head down regally. "I am Aslan," he said, his voice growing warm. "It is good to finally see you, in person. Not that you're really here, of course. But you've arrived."

Miriam looked at the lion, Aslan… and felt an immense relief go through her body, enough to make her want to collapse to the floor. Suddenly, Aslan's head was there beneath her hand, holding her up.

"I'm glad you have arrived. There will be much travail and many trials for you here, Queen Miriam. Or will it be Miriam alone? Ah, now that, my dear, depends all on you. I think, though, that you will take the right path. After all, well… feel your head for yourself…" Aslan laughed, a great roaring sound which drowned out the cheering crowd, and suddenly the two of them were standing in a forest clearing, which looked not rather unlike the one she had been sitting above when she came to Narnia.

Miriam reached up to her hair, and pulled off a silver crown, as beautiful and ornate as any of the four she had just seen. A voice called off from the side – a male's voice, deep and resonant, "Miri! _Miriam!_ Hurry up, you'll miss it!"

The lion standing next to her looked up and met Miriam's gaze. "No… you will not go…. This time. We shall see what happens when you arrive here in time." And Aslan gave a smile, a wonderfully toothy smile than made Miriam want to laugh. She felt herself slipping into consciousness, when suddenly she heard Aslan say one last thing.

"Miriam : Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia."

And she woke up suddenly, ten years old again, with a beautiful silver circlet wrapped around her right hand.

oooooo

A twelve-year old Caspian watched as his uncle, Miraz, inspected the ranks of his army, named the Mirzam in respect for their leader. With a boy's infinite capacity for curiosity, especially when it came to things that were "manly." He followed in his uncle's footsteps, noticing the slight smiles on the faces of the aged soldiers, who had all seen much war, but, also, the glory and triumph that comes with winning it. A few of the soldiers grasped their swords proudly, missing a finger or a few teeth or perhaps even an ear. But still they stood, smiling widely as Miraz found nothing to criticize.

"You have done well, my Mirzam. I doubt we shall see any trouble from the Narnian quarter in the near future," he grinned. "Or indeed, in any future at all."

Now standing in front of the Mirzam, Caspian stood between his uncle and his best friend, Evan, who was one year older.

"Evan," Caspian pronounced his friend's name with the old pronunciation, Ee-vahn, "are you going to join the Mirzam as well?" Fully knowing that at thirteen, every boy deemed fit and worthy joined the Co-Regent's army.

"'Course I am," Evan replied without looking down. He kept looking at the soldiers' gleaming armor and their shining swords. His gaze fell more often upon the elite group of the Mirzam, placed at the front right, who were trained with deadly accuracy in the use of a crossbow. Miraz himself carried a crossbow into battle, so to be picked out for such an honor brought blessings on the family of a member of the crossbow section of the Mirzam, fondly called the "Stickers."

"I'm gonna be a Sticker," Evan declared with the boasting power that arrived with his thirteenth birthday. "I en't gonna be just some sword carrier; Stickers get the best : armor, weapons, booty, ever'thin'."

The young Prince looked up at his friend, whom he fiercely admired and loved. "I'll be a Sticker too," he said, an extremely determined look on his face. Then his features brightened. "Evan, when I'm an officer, I'll make you a Sticker. I promise."

"You won't have to, Caspian. I'm gonna make my own way in this country. I'm gonna be somethin' big by the time I'm done. That's the great thing about being a man in Telmar. You can start as nuthin', just a beggar or a servin' boy, but if you got the right connections, and you use the brains that the you was born with, then you can make somethin' o' yourself. Well, boy, you just wait and see, Caspian. I'm gonna be somethin' real big."

Upon hearing this declaration, Co-Regent Miraz let out a great laugh and reached over to muss Evan's hair, then, frowning, looked at the sky. "I'm going to be late for the Regency. They're angry at me enough for charging Narnia without their consent; I'll be paying pretty bows to every Lord there if I add tardiness to the top of that."

Watching his uncle slip away, Evan a shadow straight behind him, the young Prince Caspian proudly dismissed the remaining Mirzam, who saluted and dispersed, happy to be home again after a well-earned victory.

oooooo

Miriam could tell she was not going to last very long in these dense trees with the dress she had Come in. It was long, light blue, with a white petticoat underneath. She presented the problem to the Badger, whose name, she had learned, was Trufflehunter. He had given her his name, as well as the name of the two companions he lived with – two dwarves named Nikabrik and Trumpkin, after the Healing of her hand. Something deep inside of Trufflehunter had alerted him to something that was of Deep Magic – words which were only uttered when something truly spectacular happened. For example, when the small clan, who lived at the edge of Narnian terrain to watch and scout for wayward Telmarines, felt nostalgic, they would light a bonfire, sitting around it sleepily. Then Glenstorm, with his deep and far-reaching voice, would tell the tale of the Coming of the Four – the two Sons of Adam and the two Daughters of Eve – who had brought Narnia out of its eternal winter by defeating the evil White Witch and bringing Aslan back. It was a long story, with many holes, as it had been passed down through word of mouth for years (writing no longer being permitted in Narnia by the neighboring kingdom of Telmar).

Trufflehunter, who was somewhat of an expert with needle and thread, and knowing also that children will tend to grow, harvested what he could of Miriam's dress and made a shift with the underdress, advising the child to visit the centaurs before she grew any more, for their women had perfected the art of making pleasant looking yet practical clothing. Miriam wasn't quite ready to do this – after all, the only centaur she knew was Glenstorm, and he was so serious and somber all the time that he half-frightened her. It was with some hope that Miriam inquired as to why she couldn't just layer up like Nikabrik or Trumpkin, but Trufflehunter was quick to inform her that neither dwarf was apt to grow more anytime soon, and what clothes they had were scavenged for and had been worn for years, and probably not ever seen a washing bin in that amount of time. Trufflehunter, on the other hand, was the model of hygenics, insisting on hot water nightly for first Miriam and then himself. He was second, he explained to Miriam, because Miriam would like have less chance of leaving hair in the bathtub.

Miriam quickly learned that modesty was not a thing that was valued amongst her new living-mates, and, of course, they wouldn't have known a human child naked from clothed if Miriam hadn't arrived with the light blue dress. Miriam's feet and hands soon callused from climbing around the forest, and her muscles grew strong as Glenstorm allowed her to ride him. Trufflehunter explained in low tones after the first "lesson," when Miriam was bruised and sore, that it was a great honor to ride a centaur. In fact, she shouldn't call it "riding" at all. Glenstorm was allowing her to... use... his likeness to horses in order that she should know what to do when it came to the actual riding of one.

There was little to eat in the hollowed tree, what was meager for three had now to be stretched to four, and the addition was one whose hunger grew every day. Trufflehunter could often be seen sliding his portion onto Miriam's plate when she wasn't looking, proclaiming he could eat things that the others couldn't. Which was somewhat true. With Trumpkin, though… well, one could hardly explain Trumpkin's actions even at the best of times. Sometimes he would come home with a rabbit or other small game strapped by its hands and feet to a stick, already skinned and ready for cooking. Trufflehunter rather counted on those nights, when he could make a filling stew that would stand for days as additional nutrition. Miriam learned to look forward to those nights as well, and began her own efforts at finding game.

The first time she went out with a knife, running on the heels of Trumpkin, Trufflehunter had stopped her momentarily. "Miriam, this is very important. _Very _important, do you understand me?" This was said in the same tones of how Glenstorm was allowing Miriam a very precious gift, and the girl paid attention. "You must make sure, before you injure or kill an animal, that it is not Narnian. Ask it a question. Treat it kindly – even if it turns out to be just an animal, it is still giving its life so that we may keep ours. There is a Narnian blessing for such an occasion – _As I take your life to maintain mine; 'Tis Aslan's blood that do us bind._"

Miriam repeated the words softly. "We are all a part of this nature, this world of Narnia, young Daughter of Eve, even those among us who do not realize it. It is only being responsible to give every life the worth it already has. Now, do not forget the blessing, and please, don't hurt yourself. I don't think that this Healing should be used unless in dire need. Do we understand each other, Miriam?"

Miriam nodded, and ran a hand through her tangled hair, making the silver circlet run up her arm, and then back down. Trufflehunter gazed at the jewelry with admiration, yet wariness, as he had the morning after Miriam had arrived, when they woke to find it on her wrist. He saw the glint of the knife meet the shine of the bracelet, and shivered involuntarily.

"All right, off with you. I believe Trumpkin has you meeting someone, as well as foraging. I will see you when you return."

Trumpkin was notoriously silent around the little girl, and she was not one for breaking silence needlessly. Together, they wandered around the clearing, going only so far before Trumpkin turned as if reaching an invisible line, always scanning the ground for movement.

Then, Miriam saw a rabbit.

"Be still," Trumpkin said. The first words that had been ever said directly to Miriam from the dwarf.

"We have to check if it's…"

"Be _still_," the dwarf said more insistently. Slowly, he approached the rabbit, holding out his hand as if he was holding a carrot. The rabbit neared slowly, tentatively. Trumpkin held his knife off to one side, in the peripheral vision of the rabbit. It looked at the knife for a moment, but was more interested in the contents of Trumpkin's hand. Quickly, he opened his hand, and a collection of leaves fell to the forest floor. An instant later, the rabbit was run through with Trumpkin's knife, and Miriam felt a shock of distress run through her. The rabbit was still alive… Miriam began to breathe very quickly, dropping her knife, as she stumbled forward, her palms already beginning to light up with the Healing power. Trumpkin, sensing her coming near, quickly ended the rabbit's misery, and Miriam stopped as she walked.

"Well, that'll be some trial for you, won't it?" Trumpkin said grumpily as he quickly began to skin the rabbit. Miriam turned away, stumbled a few steps, and vomited into some underbrush.

After a few minutes, Trumpkin came 'round the tree and placed a placating hand on Miriam's back. "S'all right, then. It's an obstacle, and obstacles are there so we can overcome them. You can't live a vegetarian all your days, I know enough to be knowing that your kind eat meat, just as mine do. I think a bow with some good arrows would be better for you – we'll just have to make you an extremely accurate shot, or close enough to be one."

Miriam nodded, shaking, as she turned around. Then, her eyes widened as the forest ground began to move, grasses waving, bushes exploding, until she heard a small voice near her ankle say, "So this is the Humanling, Trumpkin? Funny, I would have expected her to be bigger."

"As long as she's bigger than you…"

"Touché, my dear friend. Now, Humanling. What manner of creature will you turn out to be?"

"I'm… I'm not sure," Miriam answered, looking down at the small mouse which was talking to her, expertly waving about a sword a bit longer than a needle, a ring caught around his left ear, in which a tiny feather was entwined.

"'Tis a wise Humanling! None of us know our future, now there's the truth. All we can do…" the mouse performed a particularly complicated flourish with his tiny sword, "is to be the best we are at this moment." To emphasize his point, he sheathed his sword into a tiny leather pouch hung at his side by a belt that ran across his middle and diagonally through his chest. "My name is Reepicheep, Humanling. And you are called…?"

"Erm… Miriam." Miriam lowered her hand, inviting the small warrior onto her palm.

"Ho, steady now, a bit less shaking…" the mouse lost his footing on the cushions of Miriam's hand and resigned himself to sitting, undignifyingly splay-legged in the center of her hand until he was brought up to her face.

"Well. A bit bigger than I first suspected," the mouse, Reepicheep, admitted.

"So're you," Miriam said, quite eager not to insult the mouse.

"Oh, you jest," Reepicheep said, taking a moment to stick his head over his shoulder and scratch at his back with his teeth. Miriam took this to be a gesture of embarrassment, and so gently set Reepicheep back on the ground, where he immediately took his sword out of his scabbard and held it up as far as he could reach.

"My lady Miriam. I do here pledge and oath that my protection, and the protection of my friends, shall cover you until one of us meets our end." He bowed deeply, and Miriam knelt on the ground, planting a light kiss on Reepicheep's head. As Reepicheep's head made its way toward his back again, Trumpkin pulled on Miriam's arm.

"Let's have no more of that nonsense," he said, then added as a sort of placation, "Trufflehunter will be pleased with this, then, won't he?"

And Miriam nodded, suddenly exhilarated and happy to be here, among the trees and shrubs of the Narnian country.


End file.
